As his 1997 Chevy C/K 1500 Pickup, went into overdrive as he passed the Greyhound Bus that he had been trailing almost since Vancleave. Shane MacIntyre, eyes fell across the digital dashboard clock, it read 314PM. Or 1514 military time. He took a left hand curve on the winding backwoods wet pavement road that was Hwy 15 in eastern Kentucky. What a dark and Gloomy afternoon it was. With the sleet was coming down at a decent rate. Here it was, St. Patrick's Day. An instead of being out at some Irish Pub and getting an early start on evening of drinking green beer. He was on the road, hauling a Uhaul trailer with all of his earthly belongs in it. He was a Maritine Enforcement Weapon Specialist 2nd Class, in the U.S. Coast Guard. He was was switching Duty Stations from a Coast Guard Cutter on Lake Eryie, to one that was home ported at the south end of Florida. He had been staying with his fine Lady friend of his for the last week. That like him, belonged to the Society for Creative Anachronism, or SCA. Which was a medieval reactment group, sorta like Civil War reenators, but with broadswords and bows. As well as Courts and Feasts! He and Suzanna, or Lady Tamalynn of High Hills, as she was know in the Society, had met first met last August at Pennsic Wars. Since then, the two had been spending as much time as possible since then. Concidering where they both lived and worked.
It had been hell to leave her. But he had to report to his new duty station by 0700 tomorrow morning. So he would be driving all night. He had left himself a little leyway, even if he did somehow got lost trying to navigate the tangled backroads that he would have to travel to get to Hwy 77 south. From there he would would get on over to Hwy 95, which would give him a straight shot down the east coast of Florida, all the way to Key West.
"On a bright Beltane morning
I rise from my sleep
And softly go walking
Where the dark is yet deep
And the tall eastern mountain
With its stretch to the sky
Casts a luminous shadow
Where my true love doth lie—"
Was coming from the truck's speakers. In the cd player was a disc by Juniper MacKenzie. A Pagan Celtic Folksinger, that he had just gotten from Suzanna, she said her Cousin, Reagan who was now going to school at Oregon State University. Had picked it up at the nearby Shrewsbury Renaissance Faire, where she saw the Artist, perform last September. An had gotten two copies of her CD, sending one to Suzanna as a Yule present. Both he and Sarah were themselves both Pagans, as well as Celto and Anglophiles. An had been long before they ever met. Milady would be coming down to visit him in a month or so. Once he got settled in.
It was just then several things happened at the same time. He suddenly felt a very jarring painful shock running up and down his spinal cord and into the base of his skull. Shane grasped the steering wheel, bracing himself as he rode it out . At the same time, everything went dead. No engine power, no lights, no CD player, nothing! He shifted into neutral and wrestled with the sluggish wheel. He was on the down grade. An coast about 30 yard or so down an old over grown dirt road on the left hand side of the road. Before he threw on the emergency brake to bring it to a stop.
(If you scroll up to where the Greyhound Bus is. Where he pulled off would be right were the Highway [15] Symbol is just southwest of where the bus has stopped on the highway.
http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&hl=en&t=h&msa=0&msid =108606978534932899691.00048324f69cc069e43ff&ll=37.547708,-83.375502&am p;spn=0.044233,0.054245&z=14
"By the Gods, what the heck just happened"? Yelled Shane, to no one but himself. Had his engine somehow blown up, had his truck been struck by lightening? What was going on. He tried for a minute to start it again. Nothing; no tickle, no sound, no click. Setting the emergency brake, he openned the door. He grabbed his Coast Guard hood. and got out and slipped it on, Pulling up the hood against the slightly wind blown near frozen rain. Reaching to the middle of the bench seats he grabbed his .357 Magnum Revolver, in it's clip holster. An put it on his belt. All he could hear, was dogs barking in the distance from the south west. The direction the wind was coming from. Then something occured to him. That Greyhound bus that he had passed, hadn't passed him after that strange pain had run threw him and his truck had died. Neither had any other cars that had been behind him when he passed the slow bus.
He reached under the seat and got his flashlight. Since it was so gloomy out, he thought he might need it to check the engine out. He clicked it on. Nothing! This was getting weirder by the minute. He pulled the hood release and walked to the front of his truck. He put large rocks in front of both of the front tires, just in case the emergency brake went out for some reason. He openned the hood and looked at the engine, there didn't seem to be any obvious damage. He checked the oil and radiator, everything looked fine. It was just dead. He had his jumper cables behind the seat. He would flag down a car and see if they could give him a jump. Glancing down at his wrist watch, he saw it was stopped at 315. His watch too. Shane's mind raced, putting all the facts he had together. The only logical conclusion that he could come to was that their had been a EMT burst of some sort! Yep, that was the only thing that made any sense.
Shane closed the hood and went back and reached into the truck cab and released the the catch , pulled the seatforward. Setting the good sized first aid kit aside. He grabbed his 9x binoculars out of the case that was there and put its strap around his neck. In two other zip lock bags with in another zip lock bag he openned a package of a dozen emergency glow sticks and grabbed three. He openned one and broke it. It seemed to work just a little sluggishly. From another bag he openned a 24 pack of Chemical Handwarmers. He openned the package and grabbed four of them. Opening one he kneeded it to get it going and put it in his right hand jacket pocket that had his gloves in it to heat up. He then retrieved his Survival knife, in it three pocketed sheath. He checked it's mini flashlight. Nothing, just like he thought. The compass in the pommel of its hollow hilt would come in handy.
http://www.knifesearch.com/php/bigpic.php?
Image=uc212.jpg&Partname=BrushMaster
After first taking off the holster. Shane worked it onto his belt. Finishing, he clipped the holster back on his belt. He grabbed two speed loaders for his revolver, that he kept in a little drawstring bag back there. Putting them in his left windbreak pocket. He double check to see if his Coast Guard Marine Law Enforcement Badge and ID was in the inner pocket, it was. He tucked his Celtic knoted Pent and Cernunos Symbol inside the longsleeved dark green plaid Pendleton shirt, that he was wearing. An put on his Coast Guard knit cap also. He wanted to look as offical as possible to anyone he might come across. (Both jacket and knit cap have the the USCG Seal, i.e. symbol on the front, the words, "U.S. Coast Guard" is on the back of his jacket in big yellow block letters.)
He then reached up and grabbed his the lowest of the two firearms from the rear window mounted gun rack. It was his modified 12 gauge, short barreled Winchester Defender Shotgun. It had a folding pistol grip stock and pistol grip forend on the pump action. The other firearm in the rack was his .30-06 hunting rifle, that had a 7x scope on it. Shane took it out of the rack and wrapped it in a plaid blanket that he kept up there for the few times he had slept in his truck. An put it down on the floorboard.
Shane picked up his shotgun, an slung it by its carrying sling, africana style, with the barrel down, on his left shoulder. He closed and locket his truck. An walked back to the rear of the Uhaul trailer. It didn't seem any worse for wear. The titanium Master Lock was still in place on the door. There, Shane went threw a little warm up routine that he used when getting ready to board vessels at sea. He practice drawing his revolver from its holster a few time, from underneath his open Coast Guard jacket. He did the same with his Shotgun. In one fluid motion Shane whipped it around in one fluid motion in to the ready position, ratcheting a shell into the chamber and clicking off the safety.
Shane knew that the way he came, there hadn't been any houses for a mile or so where there had been a turn out. Checking the compass he saw that he had been going left at time things went haywire! He walked out to the road and looked down it and saw a couple of mail boxes. He stood there trying to figure out what to do. If it was what he thought it was, he was sure that the phones and electricity would be down. As would anything else which had anything that might have wiring or a computer chip. Could someone have nuked DC, and they just had to deal with the EMT burst on this side of the Appalachians. If they did that maybe they got the whole eastern seaboard. What about his family in upper Pennsylvania, were they far enough away from New York and Philly to be out of the immediate fall out zone. He thought so, but they two would be suffering the same problems he was having. What about Suzanna. He had only left her less then an hour ago in Campton. She was only less then 20 miles away to the northwest, as the raven flies, in Campton. His brain was frazzeled. I guess he first need to find a phone to call his new Duty Station and let them know what was happening with him. If that was possible. He didn't want to listed UA. Then he needed to figure out if he could get his truck or any other vehicle running. He had $389 dollars of cash in his wallet and also a check made out to him for little more then $4,600.00, from when he closed out his bank account in Cleveland. But first he needed to find a phone. Pulling on his gloves, he turned an walked west down Hwy 15 to the first mail box.......